One Last Adventure
by thegreenwonder
Summary: As Scott leaves the Xavier Institute for college, he finds himself eager to take on one last adventure before summer ends. Lucky him he gets his wish. Scott&Jean. But it's complicated. You'll see.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: My plan for this story is to split it into three parts. The first two parts will be in the third person limited narration. The first part has Scott Summers as the focal character, the second has Jean Grey. I am not sure about the third part yet.

This is a long chapter. I doubt the rest will be just as long.

Summary: As Scott leaves the X-Men for college, he finds himself eager to take on one last adventure before summer ends. Lucky him; he gets his wish.

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Chapter One

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_Xavier's Institute, School for Gifted Youngsters, Bayville, New York_

With a steady stride, Scott Summers walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He had just finished a five-mile run around the mansion grounds, and he was eager for something to drink.

The mansion was practically empty, which was very unusual. Everyone was gone; out on a date, shopping at the mall, or playing basketball outside… For the first time in weeks, he had a quiet time all to himself. High school graduation occurred just yesterday, the Prom a few weeks before that. He grabbed the orange juice and started pouring it into a tall glass.

_Ah, the first morning of summer vacation_. School was over, after all. High school was finally _over_…

It suddenly struck him. He was going to college. He was leaving the Institute. He was leaving the X-Men….the Professor… Jean...

He was leaving. He had been admitted to UC Berkeley, and with Professor Xavier's assurance that financial fees would not be a problem, he decided to attend and pursue a major in engineering.

True, the anxiousness of leaving home befell every college-bound senior, and as such, perhaps it wasn't really that big of a deal, but still…

He had gone to Prom with Taryn. She asked him out actually. It was like the Sadie-Hawkins Dance all over again, only this time there weren't any orange mini tyrannosaurus rexes. A small sad chuckle escaped his lips. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just say no, anyways?

Jean went with Duncan, of course. Duncan was Prom King, and Scott half-expected Jean to be the Prom Queen, but only seniors can be royalty. She'd be the queen, though. Next year.

_Next year, when I will be in northern California… I wonder what Jean's going to do now that Duncan will be gone, too? Surely they aren't going to try a long distance relationship?_

Scott frowned as he sipped his juice. Duncan was the last person he wanted to think about, but every time his thoughts stumbled across Jean, well, they were always bound to end up on the blond egomaniac as well.

It was not until Fred Dukes kidnapped Jean that Scott allowed himself to admit that he indeed harbored feelings for her, the kind that crossed the boundaries of friendship.

When she was kidnapped… and no one knew if she was all right… He almost lost control. That had never happened before. _Jean is your best friend, your best friend!_ He told himself, yelled at himself. He never used to look at her the way he did now…

Man, who was he kidding? She had him the first time he laid eyes on her.

He chugged his orange juice in hopes that it would somehow quell his… his… breaking heart? Is that what it was? His inability to express his feelings to Jean...

He had always hoped that it would all be resolved by a midnight confession, maybe by the angel fountain in the garden, or maybe even in her bedroom, where he would kneel in front of her as she sat at the edge of her bed, and finally declare all he felt for her. She would take him in her arms, and tears would be shed. Love would be returned.

But it never happened. The leader of the X-Men never had the guts.

_College_, he thought again._ Although it would be a relief to be away from the likes of the Brotherhood, I'd still miss… this. _

Especially the sweet beautiful torture that was Jean Grey.

The back door suddenly swung open and Evan Daniels walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in gym shorts and carried a basketball.

"Yo, Scott. Wanna play a little one-on-one?" he asked, twirling the ball expertly on his right forefinger. "Kurt was supposed to play with me, but then he ditched me at the last minute and said he'd rather have brunch with Amanda."

Scott thought for a moment. It would be fun. "Sure, why not?" he replied. A few minutes later, as he successfully made an almost impossible lay-up, all his problems and worries were, for the moment, forgotten.

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The leader of the X-Men was bored. He was almost at the point where he actually wished that the Brotherhood would cause some trouble. After all, it was the first Friday night of summer and there was nothing to do. He could join the others downstairs who were watching TV… but he wasn't in the mood.

"I guess I could call Taryn and see if she's not busy," Scott murmured, picking up the phone on his bedside table. As he lifted the phone to his ear, he could hear a feminine - almost giggly - voice already talking on the phone.

"Wow, that's wonderful," the voice said excitedly.

_Jean._

Scott covered the mouthpiece with his hand and continued listening.

"Yeah, it is. At first I couldn't believe it either, but this football scholarship is really gonna help," a deeper voice replied.

…_Duncan. _Scott felt his blood boil.

"This is really great," he heard Jean continue. "So you're going to the University of—?"

"Hey Scott, don't forget the Danger Room session before dinner," a gruff voice suddenly said from the doorway. Scott looked to the door and saw Logan's head halfway through the cracked door. "Jean's in charge of this one, you know."

Scott turned away as he felt his cheeks burn and hoped that Logan didn't know that he was eavesdropping.

"I haven't forgotten," he replied awkwardly, setting down the cordless phone on the table.

"Good." Logan frowned, glancing at the phone, and then back at Scott. "You okay, kid?"

Scott nodded, refusing to look at his mentor. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Right." Logan eyed him warily for a few seconds before finally shutting the door.

Scott heard his retreating footsteps in the hallway, and at last allowed himself a deep breath as he felt relief sweep over him. "Man," he muttered, "that was close."

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"Everybody off to the Danger Room! You've got five minutes!" Scott announced to the teenagers watching TV at the recreation room. Everyone groaned, but they all got up from the couch and some, from the floor. "Do we have to?" Kitty whined, although she already she knew the answer.

"Yeah, you have to," Scott replied, an amused smile on his face. He only had one summer left to bug the junior X-Men with Danger Room sessions, and he was determined to enjoy his last two months nagging –er, shaping the less inexperienced kids into the most formidable team of young superheroes to ever walk the planet. "Unless you'd rather have Logan in charge of the session…?"

Kitty grimaced.

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The purpose for the Danger Room session was to help ease Jean into the new leadership role that she would have to take on when Scott leaves. For each run, she had to lead two X-Men; their goal was to acquire the bottle of _water_ placed at the other end of the room. Of course, this was while surviving the programmed Danger Room that was filled with surprises. All under five minutes.

Jean was doing pretty well, Scott thought as he watched from the control room above. At the moment, her team consisted of Kurt and Kitty, and because of the two's handy mutant powers of evasiveness, it was a cinch avoiding everything that the Danger Room threw onto their path. A loud beep sounded, signaling the end of the run. Three minutes and forty-two seconds. A new record.

Scott headed for the elevator, and Rogue followed, knowing their turn was next. Scott knew they would have a harder time than Kurt and Kitty, especially since Rogue lacked any offensive and defensive mutant abilities. She had great reflexes gained from intense training, but she still had no mutant power advantages.

"Ready?" Scott asked as the elevator began to descend.

"Sugah, ah was born ready," Rogue replied with all seriousness.

Both paused for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"That was… lame," Rogue gasped, her hands firmly gripped onto the railing. "Ah'm sorry."

"It was…" Scott stopped, and shook his head. "Yeah. It was lame."

The elevator doors slid open revealing the object of Scott's affections standing off to one side, hands on her hips, head cocked slightly. "Ready?"

Scott and Rogue glanced at each other before bursting into another fit of laughter.

"Did I miss something?" Jean asked, wiping a hand across her sweaty forehead, an amused expression on her face.

"It's… nothing," Scott replied, a smile still evident on his face. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Both girls nodded as they got into position. The beep resounded, and all three sprinted down the designated path.

The first few seconds went without incident, but then a barrage of spiked cannonballs appeared out of nowhere. Scott managed to blast three of them, while Jean deflected the rest, clearing the way for the Southern belle.

It was not the first time they had tackled a Capture the Flag simulation, and it should have been a piece of cake. But it wasn't. Something was off, and the trio almost failed the mission. Almost.

All three of them soon became quite busy. There had been an onslaught of spinning razor-edged discs, and Rogue was kept occupied just trying to dodge them. Jean had her hands full trying to keep a defenseless Rogue from getting her head cut off, and Scott was busy discharging short beams of his optic blast, determined to fend off another shower of spiked cannonballs that was coming their way. He was tempted to create a wider opening in his visor and just blast the balls in one big sweep, but with Jean and Rogue standing in such close range and it was simply not a risk worth taking.

Two minutes passed before they were able to overcome the hail of dangerous objects.

"Rogue, head for the goal! Cyclops and I will cover you!" Scott heard Jean shout.

"Right!"

The next minute happened in a swift flurry of events. A laser gun had fired at Rogue's location, giving her no choice but to lunge forward to avoid it. As soon as she did, however, a tall glass box fell from the ceiling, trapping her like a mime performing the trapped-in-a-box trick.

"Rogue!" Jean yelled.

Scott glanced at the red digital timer thirty feet above them. Two minutes and twenty-nine seconds left, and they were barely halfway towards their goal.

"Jean! Let's get the bottle first! We can rescue her on the way back!" Scott shouted, grabbing her wrist.

Jean looked at him, startled, but shook off his hold on her. "No, we rescue Rogue first!"

"We're running out of time! We'll get her on the way back!"

"No! I'm the one in charge today, _Cyclops_," — she stressed his codename — "and if you want to get the damn bottle, go ahead. No one gets left behind; not on my watch."

The two X-Men stared at each other, and Scott felt a burning annoyance grow within him. What was wrong with her? He was well-aware that he wasn't in charge, thanks very much, but he had more experience as a leader, and she should at least acknowledge that.

A small explosion interrupted their staring contest, and after one last glance at Jean –who was already running towards the captured Rogue, Scott made his way for the goal. He may not have been in charge of this mission, but he was still a part of it, and there was absolutely no way they would fail.

Surprisingly, the only enemies he encountered were a couple of slow-moving androids that he was able to easily blast into smithereens. The bottle had been placed on a knee-high wooden table at one corner of the Danger Room with a high red light shining down on it. He grabbed it with haste, and within seconds, was already twenty feet away from his teammates. It seemed Jean had been using her telekinesis to pound on the walls of the cage, but the glass was thick.

He glanced at the timer: thirty-six seconds left.

Finally, the glass exploded, and thousands of sharp glass flew all around. But Jean and Rogue remained unharmed; most likely due to the telekinetic's shields.

"I've got the item!" Scott yelled as he approached them. "Hurry, let's get back to the starting point! Less than twenty seconds left!"

They ran for their lives. They heard the loud beeps that signaled the ten-second countdown…

Ten…

Nine…

Scott's heart thumped wildly against his chest…

Seven…

Six…

He took a risk to glance back at his teammates. They were right behind him. Jean's beautiful face… her cheeks were flushed in a beautiful pink…

Four…

Three…

_C'mon, Summers…!_

Two…

Scott suddenly felt a strong invisible force push him from behind, and it sent him flying—

He landed chest-down directly at the starting point with a loud thud. "Oof!"

_Beeeeep!_

They made it! They did it! Scott could not help but grin.

Still sprawled on the floor with the bottled water held by his right hand, he lifted his head… and was met with a pair of dark orange combat boots.

"Cutting it a little close, don'tcha think?" Logan asked, his voice stern.

Scott quickly got to his feet. "Yeah, but we passed, and that's what matters…"

Logan raised a brow, but instead of replying, he grabbed the bottled water from Scott's hand, twisted the cap open, and chugged it. "If you and Red didn't spend two minutes arguing during the sequence, then maybe you guys coulda finished earlier. Do the run again."

Jean suddenly walked over to them, a frown worn on her face. "Well, if Scott had stopped questioning my leadership abilities then maybe—"

"I never questioned your leadership abilities!" Scott interrupted.

Jean's green eyes blazed. "Yes, you did! If you had helped me with Rogue first, then we could have—"

"If I had come with you, we never would have had enough time to get the bottle afterwards!"

"Stop interrupting me!"

"Only if you stop treating me like I don't know anything!"

"How dare you! I never treated you that way! You're the one who's been treating me like _I_ don't know how to be a leader!" Jean replied haughtily.

He gritted his teeth.

She glared, chin up.

He glared right back. Behind his visor, of course.

He was now fully aware that Rogue and Logan were staring at them. He could see from the corner of his eye that Rogue looked completely surprised, while Logan had both his brows raised.

Logan coughed, and everyone looked at him. He was scratching his chin. "We'll do this run again tomorrow instead." He gave a stern glare at Scott and Jean. "When everybody's had a chance to cool _off_."

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Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two…

Scott banged his head against the steering wheel of his red convertible.

He was so stupid. Goddamn. He was so effin' stupid.

What the hell was wrong with him? He had less than two months left at the Institute, and he had gotten his best friend pissed off at him. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He sighed, his head leaned back against the headrest. Now that he had time to think about it, he realized Jean's plan could have worked. He could have easily blasted the glass cage with his optic blasts, and Jean would only have had to form her TK shields to protect them from the flying glass debris. And… that should not have taken more than fifteen seconds… and Rogue would have been free…

God, he was so stupid. Why did he have to be so goddamn cocky?

Why? Why? _Why?_

"Hey."

Scott looked up to see Jean standing at the opened garage doorway, who, like him, was still wearing her X-Men uniform.

"Hey yourself," Scott whispered, feeling uneasy. "I was just…"

"This your secret place?" Jean asked, a small smile on her face.

"Yeah."

"I feel sorry for the steering wheel."

Scott gave a lopsided smile. "Me too."

"Can I talk to you?"

Her voice was suddenly more vulnerable than he had ever heard it. He nodded, afraid to open his mouth. She made her way to the car, opened the passenger door, and sat next to him on the passenger seat.

He heard her take a deep breath. "I'm sorry about earlier tonight. I guess I'm just… I was just sort of frustrated, you know, since… you're leaving…"

Scott scoffed. "You're frustrated? What about me? I'm the one who's leaving… starting anew and all that crap."

"Yeah, but… I mean, suddenly _I'm_ the leader of the X-Men and… I don't know. It's a bit daunting. It's a big responsibility." Jean looked at him. "They'll be comparing me… criticizing me… measuring me up… to be as good –if not better."

Scott turned his head to face her. "I know you'll do great. There's no reason why you won't be a good leader. You did great today, and I... I was stupid. I should've just followed your orders."

Jean opened her mouth as if to protest his apology, but Scott didn't give her a chance to speak.

"It'll come naturally to you, just like everything else."

Jean caught his eyes. "Thanks…"

Then she turned away, and released a soft laugh. "How about you? You're not happy about leaving? Come on, it's college. You must be… _excited_…"

"I guess I am a little. But I'm not sure I'm ready to leave you… er, you guys." Scott quickly added. He could feel sweat start to form around his forehead. "I mean, you guys are my family. It'll be strange to be away from everyone."

"You'll get used to it, you know that. Besides, we'll see each other on the holidays. Thanksgiving weekend, Christmas break…"

Scott glanced at her. "Yeah."

"Honestly, you act as if you'll never see us again." Jean said, her tone of voice mocking seriousness. "Like I would ever let such a thing happen."

Pause.

And Scott felt the corners of his lips pull upwards.

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They had decided to take a stroll in the garden.

A romantic moonlight lit the cemented pathway before them.

She was laughing at his lame joke.

And then… while he watched her, entranced by the sight of her being so happy… he decided, with a fast-beating heart threatening to break his ribs… that this would be the moment… this would be… it.

He stepped closer to her.

She stopped laughing, and her green eyes darted to his lips. "Scott…?"

"Jean…" He inched even closer.

But then there was a light, blinding like the flash of a camera inside a dark room, though its duration lasted much longer. Seconds… perhaps minutes… Scott barely had time to shut his eyes as the white light engulfed him and Jean, and suddenly the floor underneath him was gone. He was falling, spinning, flying…

Sudden instinct caused him to reach out and grab his best friend… but his grasping fingers were only met with swift nothingness. At this, a wave of terror and worry swept through his mind and body as he screamed her name at the top of his lungs.

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Scott was lying flat on his back when consciousness claimed him, the familiar smell of dirt and grass drifting against his nostrils. Warm sunlight burned on his bare eyelids, causing him to groan. He shut his eyes tightly as he was now painfully aware that his face lacked a certain accessory. Forcing himself on his knees, his hands began to feel the ground as he searched for his ruby quartz visor. He finally found them after the longest three minutes of his life, and hastily put them on, though his eyes remained closed.

That was when he realized that something was amiss.

There was a strange feeling lurking within him, bothering him to the point of flaming annoyance. He could not quite place what it was, but there was definitely something… something wrong… something different… about his body… no, not his body… but his head… his eyes…

There was no familiar build up of pressure behind his eyes. Usually, there was always –_always_– an intense amount of energy struggling to escape from behind his eyes, which often led to throbbing headaches until he opened his eyes and let the caged red energy free. But at that moment, Scott noticed that… there wasn't.

It was… it was… it wasn't normal. He raised his hands to his visor, and gripped it tightly at the sides of his head. Could it be?

He lifted his head upwards, opening his eyes. The clear sky looked a light shade of red.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he took off his visor.

Then he opened the windows to his soul.

The day was bright, blinding. But the sky...

Dear God... the sky was _blue_.

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	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you very much for the kind reviews. I hope this chapter is up to your standards. The story is going a bit slow, but I intend for this to be almost like a mini-novel.

And thus, the fantasy portion of the story begins.

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Chapter Two

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Oh God.

Blue. When was the last time he had seen blue? Not since his powers had first manifested, his mind answered, and that had been too long ago.

He didn't know how long he had stood there, staring at the sky, making note of the pure whiteness of the scattered clouds, the sheer lightness of the sky's blue hue. _God, it's so damn beautiful…_

The thought that crossed his mind made him feel silly, but he could not help it. There were times when he had lain in bed, wondering whether he had forgotten what colors actually looked like… It had been so long that his eyes have remained captive in their red cage that even his dreams now occurred in red.

With a shake of his head, he found himself trying to erase the foolish grin on his face as he commanded the leader in him to take over. He sighed. He had no idea where he was, and that was enough cause for worry. Surveying his current surroundings, a slight frown shadowed his face.

A few feet to his right, a giant dry rock was next to an old deciduous tree that had only begun the process of abscission, as brown and yellow leaves littered the dirt ground. Past the tree, a vast green meadow spread outwards. It seemed to stretch on for miles while snowcapped mountains stood in the background.

_Picturesque_.

His gaze drifted downwards. Some thirty feet away, something glinted among the lush grass. He raised a hand to cover his eyes from the sun, but it amounted to nothing; he still couldn't tell what the shiny object was. He was just about to head towards it when he heard a muffled… yell.

"Help!" a man's voice cried.

Scott swiveled his body around, creating an abrupt 180 degree turn… and was met with nothing. Nothing but endless blue sky.

With a confused look on his face, he glanced downwards.

He was standing about ten feet from the edge of a cliff. Quickly his mind began to remember how, only a few minutes ago, he had been crawling on his knees with closed eyes looking for his visor, not knowing that he had been so close to a terrifying fall.

He exhaled.

"Somebody!"

Scott readied himself. The voice seemed to come from… below. From over the edge of the cliff. _Or is it better to say 'under'? _thought Scott

Warily, Scott edged closer to the verge of the plateau, heart beating fast. When the points of his right boot passed the edge, he took a deep breath, looked behind him to ease his paranoia that someone might suddenly push him, saw that indeed, he was alone, and finally, peered. He saw a short tree branch (or root? Scott wondered) sticking out of the cliff's side, with a thick bundle of leaves at the end of it. He couldn't see anyone… wait, were those fingers?

"You there!" the voice yelled.

Startled, Scott almost lost his balance, as he stepped backwards ungracefully, and winced when he fell on his rear.

"No! No! No! Come back! Please!" the voice begged.

Still breathing erratically, Scott peered again, and this time was able to see where the voice was coming from. It was a man, bald, from what Scott could see, and he was hanging with both hands gripping the branch, his feet kicking wildly beneath him.

"Oh by the gods! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for coming back! I thought you had left me!"

_Oh, great.__ Now how the heck did he get there? _Scott pondered, mild annoyance in his thoughts. He shook his head. He had to find a way to rescue him!

"Uh… hold on! I'll find something to pull you out with!" Scott shouted.

"Wait! There should be some rope somewhere around there! Those…" –the man's voice groaned, as if in great pain- "damn thieves had tied me up for… for hours before deciding on throwing me over the cliff! Just… look for it! And hurry! My grip's getting weaker!"

"Uh, all right! Hang on!"

Scott scrambled onto his feet and searched wildly, his thoughts jumbling as he tried to force down his growing panic. What if the thieves took the rope with them? Then what? The man could lose his grip at any second!

"Where is it? Where is it?!" he muttered to himself. _Oh, fuck_.

His eyes scanned the dry grass and the dirt around him. Nothing.

He turned his head and was about to give up when… there! He saw the end piece of a rope lying from behind the big rock. As fast as he could, Scott grabbed the rope, and was pleased to see that there was at least a length of twenty feet of it. Quickly rolling it up, he headed towards the edge of the cliff once again.

"I've got it!" he yelled. "I'm gonna throw it! Grab on when you can!"

Scott waited a little, holding on to the other end of the rope, and listened impatiently to muffled sounds and disturbing groans until…

"I've got the rope! You can pull!" came the voice.

And so Scott heaved, and pulled, and sweated even after his arms and fingers became sore, and he only stopped when the poor victim had made it over the edge and was now lying next to Scott on the ground.

When both men had regained their breath, the bald man stood up suddenly. Scott turned his head to look at him, who was motioning for him to head towards the tree.

"Come on. I don't feel too good lying so close to the edge," he explained.

Rolling his eyes, Scott obliged and followed the older man, who had taken a comfortable sitting position against the tree.

Grabbing a seat against the giant rock so that he faced the stranger, Scott once again turned to observe the man. He was a bit on the stocky side, his head and face completely deprived of hair, wrinkles around gray eyes, and his body didn't seem proportioned, Scott thought, as his arms and biceps seemed a little too big for the length of his body. It reminded Scott of a gorilla. A hairless one.

But that wasn't the strangest thing that Scott noticed. No, it was the way the man was dressed. He looked like he had stepped out of a catalog for medieval clothing. With his strange outfit, he looked like a peasant from the 15th century, Scott thought incredulously.

"What the hell you starin' at, boy?" the man spat.

Scott raised an eyebrow. Just a few minutes ago, this man had been _begging_, and now here he was calling the leader of the X-Men 'boy'. Who did this man think he was? A small smirk crept onto Scott's face.

"I thought the thieves tied you up before throwing you over the cliff. How come you're… _not_ tied up?"

"They untied me. They decided it'd be more fun to see me hanging from a skinny branch to see how long it would take before I'd let go," came the gruff reply. "They waited a long time before finally giving up and leaving me."

Still looking at Scott, the man pursed his lips. "You're still staring."

"I am. I'm staring at you, and your strange clothing. Why are you dressed like that? Where's the fair, buddy? Did you need a wagon getting there?" Scott retorted.

The man scrunched his brows. "So now you're making fun of the poor, are you? And how about you? What are you wearing? What is that?"

At this, the old man scurried towards Scott and grabbed a fistful of Scott's stretchy uniform, pulling it and then releasing it, making it snap against Scott's skin.

"Hey! Ow!"

"What is that material, anyway? What's with the cross across your chest? You look ridiculous."

"Hey, get away from me! I saved your life! You didn't even say thanks." Scott glared at the man, briefly remembering that without his visor, he could now… well, glare! "And you were heavy, too."

The man went back to leaning against the tree, though he kept his eye on Scott. "Hmph. Well, thanks. I appreciate you pulling me out of that… predicament."

Scott straightened himself against the rock, his glare still intact. "You're… welcome."

"I'm called Daniel, by the way," the man spoke up, in a somewhat… less rough voice.

"Scott. My name's Scott Summers."

Daniel looked at him suspiciously, but didn't say anything, so Scott allowed himself to shut his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Now that this ordeal was done and over with, he had to take care of _his_ problem. First of all, he had to find a way to communicate with Jean and the others. Yes, that would be the most important thing, he thought. Well, the most important thing _after _getting the hell away from this crazy old man.

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In the garden.

He was about to kiss her, she knew it.

But then… why was it so…

_So… cold._

_Get up._

_So goddamn cold._

_Get up, Jean. Get up!_

With a start, Jean Grey opened her eyes, and was met with the sight of snow.

Snow. Everywhere.

She had been lying down on the snow. No wonder it was so damn cold. As she stood up, she swayed a little, but held onto sheer determination, and was soon standing on her feet. Breathing shallowly, she held a hand to her cheek. It was numb. She could barely… feel. And it was terrifying.

Although her X-Men uniform was designed to protect her from all sorts of weather conditions, she knew she had been in the cold for too long. The dampness had begun to seep through the layer of her uniform.

Each breath she released came with puffs in the air due to the cold, and her body shivered madly. Trying to get some sense into her, she glanced and observed her surroundings. It looked like she was at the edge of a forest of snow-covered pine trees, and as she turned her head, she noticed that she was standing at the side of an old road. Her eyes followed the length of it, and her heart sank. It seemed to stretch on and on. And snow continued to fall!

God, she felt so weak. There was no way she could walk that far and find help. She was going to die, she just knew it!

_Wait, stop, Jean. Use your telepathy_, she told herself, trying to stop herself from panicking. _See if there's someone… out there_. 

Taking a deep breath, and bringing her fingers to her temples, she concentrated. But… something had already felt wrong, even before she had begun to raise her hands.

Emptiness. It was a feeling of emptiness so overwhelming it was enough for tears to appear in her eyes.

"There's no one out here," she murmured. "That's why I don't hear anything… any voices, any thoughts… There's no one. I'm…. alone."

She fell to her knees. "My thoughts have never felt so… quiet…"

**Thud, thud, thud…**

Jean turned her head. She felt the vibrations on the ground, and she heard the faint sounds coming from afar. Like… a gallop. A horse?

She stood up quickly, and felt dizzy, but refused to let it affect her. She narrowed her eyes to focus her vision… could it be?

"There's someone on horseback…" Jean whispered, allowing herself to hope. "And they're headed this way!"

Again, Jean raised her fingers to her temple, wanting to scan the rider's mind to see if they would be a friend or foe to a stranger like her on the road. But it was to no avail. Jean furrowed her brows. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her telepathy?

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to dwell too much on the disturbing thought as her tired eyes suddenly began to close. She shook her head, willing the exhaustion to go away. _No_, she thought stubbornly.

_Wait. Yes, that must be it. I'm exhausted_, Jean thought. _I must not be… concentrating… enough… _

She fell to her knees again in the snow, and try as she might, she knew she wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. The gallops became louder.

Whether this rider was dangerous or not, there was nothing more she could do, nothing but fall back into the same position that she had found herself in when she had first woken up.

As she laid quietly, her eyes still refusing to close completely, she fought to breathe, breathed like it was the most difficult thing to do. And finally, the sounds stopped. The thuds, the gallops… they all ceased. She heard a horse neigh, and it sounded so close, so near.

Her eyes traveled from the ground level and upwards, upwards…

As she finally surrendered to the darkness, her lips formed a small amused smile.

Through her red strands, she could've sworn she saw… that… that…

The rider was wearing some sort of… armor.

Yes, sent to rescue her was her very own knight in shining armor. Goodness, she must have finally lost her mind. And in her thoughts, she giggled, giggled as she fell into sweet blissful unconsciousness.

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End file.
